As the title suggests, this news article's goal is to spread the dA love into everyone's heart! You will find here a little bit of everything, from awesome interviews with talented artists, art features, group promotion to random deviants' features. I hope you will find this informative and entertaining!
Interviewed artist: `kit-y
Tell us what defines you as a person.
There's too many things to list! I would have to say the top thing that defines me is a love for all things fun - it makes everything much more pleasant to take it with a little less seriousness and a little more "smiles and giggles." How did you found out about deviantART and why did you join the community?
To be honest, it was probably mostly peer pressure. A few of my friends in high school had accounts, so I figured why not! When and how did you discover your passion for art?
I've been doodling for a long time (my parents' walls and radiators can testify to that). I always found studio and writing classes to be the most stimulating. An added benefit was that I could spew out pretty much anything that was on my mind at any given time and still get an A. What inspires you the most and when do you think your creativity is at its maximum?
It would definitely be other artists. I always get my creative sparks when I see or read an amazingly-made piece. It's quite lucky there's so many beautiful artworks around here. What do you think you'd be doing if you hadn't chosen this path?
Probably more or less the same thing to be honest, just a lot more boring! What do you think it's your most meaningful deviation and what makes it special? Does it have a story behind it?The Sidewalk
is one of the poems I always like to revisit. There's no real story behind it except that it was raining and I was walking down the street feeling a cliche "New York moment." Since I now live in the exact opposite of NYC it's always nice to go back and reminisce and compare. Do you have any insecurities regarding your art?
Absolutely! I'm rarely if ever actually satisfied with something I make; often all I ever see are the hundreds of flaws in my works. Did art ever helped you to deal with your life problems?
Writing especially has helped tons. For me it just feels good to spew all my thoughts onto black and white every now and then. What is the one thing you always wanted to do but never got a chance to?
My answer to this changes pretty much every 5 minutes. At the moment it's "try marmite." A few words for our fellow artists?
Everything is way easier when you giggle and smile, except drinking milk.
Seasons passWinter was always long, every year it only seemed to get worse. Waiting for the long months to be put behind her was all she could do about it, and that killed her. It still didn't kill her like her lungs were killing her. Every year it was the same, at the first snowfall she had to settle down in the downstairs near the wood stove with no sun for weeks on end. She hated winter. Her lungs had been damaged since before she could walk, and the cold just sped everything up.
Time drug on with no care for how she felt. Family brought her things to eat and books to read, mostly picture books, Nanny May knew a local artist and told him of her poor granddaughters plight. He promptly gave her extra copies of all his works for free. Pity and guilt is a good motivator for halfhearted good deeds. It didn't matter to her though, the end result was the same and she got her books. The pretty pictures were not the reason she endured winter, though.
Sunlight crept through a crack in the shut
Celebrate Fred was orphaned from young, and having isolated from a parent's love, he called this world a despicable world. He openly believed that friends would stab others in the back and partners secretly plotted the other's downfall. Since young, he kept a distance from many, fearing betrayal. As a result, he was a loner. Never had he placed his trust in others when he was a wee kid.
This continued for years. No one in the orphanage could put a smile on his face. Fred had always looked at the darker side of things and was wary of everything. Perhaps this had made him feel miserable, but he endured. To him, having friends who wanted to dispose of you was worse than having no friends at all. Celebrations and parties left a feeling of spite, not happiness. Birthdays of his passed without even a simple blessing or the blow of candles. Fred generally eluded the adults, thus he was never adopted. However kind and wise they were, they could not free his heart of this horren
Struggling With My Coffin SizeThrashing for a surface
That I'll never reach
The warmth of the sun
Not intended for me
Embracing the depth,
The bliss of death
The surrender brings me
The screams, the cries
Unbearable to feel
Not mine, but loved ones
Yet the pain is so real
Razors strike my heart
As I watch them mourn
Bleeding the need
To hold them, feeling torn
My eyes opened to truth
But now it's too late
I was never alone;
I created my fate.
blood in my teeththat sort of sunset
(the color of burnt honey
seeping through the storm clouds, the rain like mercury
& amber) sets loose
the fox inside me;
takes me into the brutish dark & returns me with
blood in my teeth, to crawl
into bed still electric & craving & almost too
full of fight to sleep
wake up wake upmy legs crack as i draw
them up to my chest, darkness
swallowing my vision, fists
tight and pale in
[ all i can see are
her eyes blank and blurry
dead as an empty canvas
all i can hear
is my raspy voice
wake up wake up
all i can taste are my tears
salty sour in my gaping
no darkness can block her out.
i don't know whether it's monday
or tuesday or saturday
and the month has fled my
grip. i don't know
whether it is day or night
because i have been folded up and
discarded in the darkest corner
of this place.
[ tires screech
people scream metal
crunches against metal and
glass shatters onto the asphalt ]
my skin is itchy but
i can't stop scratching once i start.
angry red gashes already
gape on my thigh from
my rough-edged nails.
the bruises under my eyes hang
low, brushing my cheekbone.
i don't remember the last time
i slept a full night.
there are too many nightmares
feeding on my brain.
[ her head rolls
on her neck blood matting hair
i once en
WordsI see your good words,
they can lift me up,
or you bad words
that tear me down, casting me into a hole.
Your words were once tender and love filled,
Made my heart soar to heights
that I thought were impossible
We had conversations that gave me a smile,
conversations that lasted for hours,
I miss those,
I miss the euphoria.
When I knew you were coming,
I would gaze out my window and wait,
almost bouncing in my chair from the excitement.
When I would see you come around the corner,
my heart would fly away
to heights unseen,
words leaving along with them.
When you would leave for home,
the words would come back
and choke me.
The final time you left,
the words that I wanted to say,
to voice I couldn't,
they choked me more then anything,
for I knew my words would hurt us the most.
I don't know how many days can go by,
that those words haunt me,
and the words that I constantly think about,
won't leave my head.
I wait for the day that I get your good words again
and not w
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